


For Whose Sake

by CelsiusFate



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 14:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17530340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelsiusFate/pseuds/CelsiusFate
Summary: Legolas does not know how he came to be at Dol Guldur. He has no recollections of his past. Trained by the Witch-King of Angmar, the Elf becomes the Nazgûl Lord's personal champion. The assassin known as Esgal...





	1. Esgal

The once proud realm of Gondor has lost its splendor since the disappearance of Arathorn, but nonetheless it remains a stronghold in the realm of Men. A cloaked figure slowly made his way through a crowd of people, weaving in and out meticulously to avoid being recognized. If the Men of Gondor were to discover he was an Elf, then his task would not go so smoothly. Whilst both races knew of each other's existence, Elves rarely mingled amongst Men and the same goes for the latter. The last thing the figure wanted was to draw attention to himself.

Yes.

He was an Elf.

One who was raised and trained by the Witch-King of Angmar.

No one dared cross him within the fortress of Dol Guldur, and his name was only whispered in fear amongst the Orcs and Goblins that dwell within its desolate walls.

Esgal.

His presence was well known deep within the Hill of Sorcery that has been his home for the past two thousand years. No being, Goblin or Orc alike, dared disobey his orders.

Those who did do not live to see the next sunrise.

But today was a different story.

He was here to find information pertaining to the whereabouts of Isildur's heir, if the rumors he heard were correct. The Witch-King had assigned him the task of mingling in with the citizens of Gondor, learning as much as he could before returning back to Dol Guldur. Due to his nature as an Elf, Esgal was often sent on assassination and reconnaissance missions, him drawing far less attention than Orcs and Goblins would. The Elf was raised to be a merciless and deadly fighter, able to kill without being noticed, and the victim not realizing until it was too late. He is a weapon. A weapon under the command of the Nazgûl Lord.

Stopping in front of a tavern, the cloaked Elf quietly slipped inside to find it full of Men drinking merrily around tables. Having been educated in various tongues, including the common tongue, it was rather effortless for Esgal to blend in. With the tips of his ears covered and his fair silver hair concealed, he could easily pass for a Man. Albeit a rather good-looking one, but a Man nonetheless. Unlike other Elves he also did not glow, having learnt to keep it suppressed during the years he spent inside the black fortress. He had to. Any being of Light exposed to Darkness for so long will succumb, thus one of the very first things the Witch-King taught him was how to suppress his inner glow, to prevent himself from being driven mad by the evil presence lingering within its darkened walls. Now it no longer strained him to do so, though he did wear special lenses that turned his pupils crimson. The lenses were created through magic by the Witch-King, allowing the Elf to pinpoint an enemy's weak spot, thus enabling Esgal to fight more effectively even when cornered. His natural eye color was silver-blue, but only when he was within the walls of Dol Guldur does he take the lenses off. When not in use, he kept them inside a special container inside his pouch.

"Can I get you anything?" the female barkeep asked, though she looked no older than eighteen to the immortal Elf.

"Ale is fine," replied Esgal, acting casual whilst keeping an eye around his surrounding area.

A wooden cup fell upon his gloved hands, prompting him to instinctively curl his fingers around the body.

"What a day this has been," she wearily said, rubbing away at glasses with a clean towel.

"Why do you say so?" Esgal picked up the cup, taking a sip of alcohol. It wasn't as strong as he thought, and flavored with a hint of ginger and lemon. Quite refreshing to his tongue actually. He also wouldn't get intoxicated so easily, as alcohol does not effect Elves like it does Men and Dwarves. It would take at least twenty cups of ale before Esgal will begin to feel light-headed.

Then again he never drank to the point of being in a stupor.

"Lord Arathorn is missing and Lord Ecthelion keeps sending our men to Minas Morgul. Countless lives are being lost and that man does nothing but sit in luxury whilst we put our lives on the line. Mark my words, Minas Morgul will fall soon and Lord Ecthelion will not do a damn thing to reclaim his territory."

That piqued his interest.

"How long has Lord Arathorn been missing?" Esgal feigned concern, leaning forward as if eager to learn more.

The barkeep gave him a heavy sigh. "You must not be from around here are you?" she asked, giving his cloaked figure a look over.

"I am a mere traveler, privy to the going-ons of those around me."

"I have heard rumors that Sauron's forces are scouring the lands for Lord Arathorn and Lady Gilraen. The Lady Gilraen is with child, an heir that can reclaim the throne of Gondor."

The Elf arched an eyebrow at this.

"Of course these are mere rumors," the barkeep's hands never stopped wiping during the conversation. The glasses were so clean, Esgal could see his crimson eyes reflected upon the polished surface.

"Has no one tried to find Lord Arathorn?" Esgal took another sip of ale.

She laughed out loud. "Most of our men are too busy holding back Sauron's armies. There are not enough soldiers to search for Lord Arathorn."

The Elf made a mental note of this.

Taking yet another sip of his drink, the Elf glanced around the tavern. Many had already left for the night, and whatever stragglers remained were busy drowning their worries in alcohol.

Finishing his own ale, Esgal paid for it and departed the tavern.

* * *

Outside the vast gates of Gondor awaited a Warg Rider. It had been instructed to wait for Esgal's return. As much as the Goblin detested that damn Elf, it valued its own life too much to disobey. The last one that did was found hanging upside down in its own pool of blood. Not a pretty sight for malicious creatures such as itself, whom had seen its fair share of blood and guts.

A low growl filled the air as the Goblin became alert. Seconds later a cloaked figure materialized beside the two. If the Rider hadn't known about the Elf's abilities beforehand, it would have died of fright.

"Arathorn has gone into hiding," Esgal said, mounting briskly onto the back of a saddled roan horse, his loyal companion Hagalith whom he raised as a filly.

The Goblin clambered up onto the Warg.

"What of the heir?" it growled between pointed teeth.

"Rumors for now."

Urging their mounts forward the odd pair made haste towards Dol Guldor.

* * *

The sun had begun to rise when the duo arrived at the looming black fortress. A loud horn resounded in the air, signaling their return from Gondor. The ancient oak doors swung open as soon as they neared, and Esgal gradually pulled his horse to a stop.

"The Witch-King requests your presence," an Orc said as it came to tend to the mare.

"Where is he?" Esgal lowered his hood, allowing silver locks to cascade down his back.

"In his chambers."

Handing the reigns over to said Orc, Esgal hurried towards the western wing of the fortress. Along the way he passed by patrolling Goblins, all gretting him with grunts and nods. Those within the Hill of Sorcery knew Esgal to be the Witch-King's right hand. Crossing the Elf was equivalent to a death sentence by the Nazgûl Lord himself.

* * *

The Witch-King of Angmar stood outside on the balcony of his chambers, overlooking a vast courtyard where thousands of Orcs were training in formation. One final wave to Minas Morgul and that territory will belong to him. It will give him much more access to the rest of Gondor, allowing the Darkness to spread even further and corrupt the hearts of Men. The Nazgûl Lord shuddered as it recalled how it became a Ringwraith of Sauron. Power. Temptation. Greed. Nine Rings had been given to Men, and it was through those rings the Black Riders were born. Of the Nine, the Witch-King was the strongest and their leader.

"You called for me?"

Esgal entered the room to stand beside his master. Under normal circumstances an Elf cannot bear to be near such evil, but Esgal has learned to suppress his glow, and being near the Ringwraith almost every day has allowed him to protect his mind from such crippling powers.

"What news have you of Gondor?" he inquired in a raspy voice.

"Arathorn has gone into hiding. I have also heard rumors that his wife is with child."

At this the Nazgûl Lord stirred.

"Isildur's heir cannot be allowed into this world! I will send scouts to search for their location. Once they are found, I want you to lead a band of Warg Riders to end their lives."

The Elf inclined his head.

"I have a new task for you Legolas," continued the Witch-King.

Legolas.

Esgal's real name.

Only the Ringwraiths knew of this.

To everyone else he was simply Esgal.

Elvish for Hidden.

A perfect alias as he spends most of his time hiding amongst others.

"Yes?"

"Observe the Elvenking in his domain."

The assassin bowed once. "I understand."

"You are free to retire to your room."

A signal for his dismissal.

* * *

With his chambers being on the opposite end of the fortress, Legolas took his time walking back. The hallways were illuminated with nothing but lanterns, giving off an unsettling feeling to those not used to the darkness. Yet Legolas had grown accustom to walking these halls. It was strange. The Elf had no recollection of who his true parents are, nor his real family. The only memories he could recall were those of relentless training by the Witch-King day and night. However there was one memory that he hadn't lost, and that was a pair of warm hands cradling his infant body. But try as hard as he could, the Elf could not piece together a face that belonged to the hands.

In all the years he has spent within Dol Guldur, his true identity had been taken from him.

Legolas did not know he was.

What is the reason for his existence?

Does he have a family?

Were his parents searching for him at this very moment?

The closest he's ever had to a family were mentors brought to the Hill of Sorcery by the Nazgûl, to train him in various arts aside from fighting. However Legolas learnt not to grow too attached to them.

They were always disposed of after serving their purpose.

An ear-piercing scream echoed in the air, the agonized sound jarring Legolas out of his thoughts. Pausing in his steps the Elf cocked his head, thinking the scream to be of Orc or Goblin origin. These beasts kill their own kind every day, so he would normally pay no attention, but something sounded off about this particular wail of pain.

Several moments later he heard it again.

There was no mistaking it.

It was the scream of an Elf.

* * *

Following the source of the screams Legolas sprinted down a spiral flight of stairs, this particular one leading to the dungeons. The agonizing cries grew louder the closer he drew, with the latest one nearly splitting his head open. Flinging the door open with such force, the Elf walked calmly into the room to find a gruesome sight. An Elf, a Elleth, chained to the wall and bleeding profusely from lacerations on her body. Three Goblins stood before her, each bearing a torture device, namely a whip, a iron brand, and a knife. They were each taking turns prodding at the young Elleth, forcing her to cry in agony whilst enjoying her screams.

The moment they saw Legolas standing there, the Goblins lowered their hands.

"What is going on here?" hissed Legolas dangerously.

No one answered.

The only audible sound were quiet sobs coming from the Elleth.

"Answer me now or I will sever your heads from your bodies!"

To prove his point the Elf flicked his hand, showing an Elven dagger clenched within his clutch.

Still no one dared to speak.

Without looking Legolas flung the dagger at the Goblin on the left, instantly killing it as the beast toppled over on the ground. The remaining two whimpered in terror, huddling together in a pathetic attempt to protect themselves from his vengeful wrath.

"Speak!" he ordered again.

"W-We caught this tree-rat while on patrol and captured her. The Witch-King has ordered us to get any information out of her pertaining to Mirkwood and the Elvenking," one finally answered.

"I will take over from here. Remove yourselves from my sight this instant."

"But Lord Esgal-"

"Now!" barked Legolas angrily, splaying another dagger for them to see.

The Goblins scrambled to get out of the room, tripping over each other in their attempt to flee out the door. Once they were gone from sight, Legolas slowly approached the trembling Elleth, noting the tattered remains of her clothing, and the fear evidently swimming within her blue eyes.

"I won't hurt you," he said gently.

She didn't answer him.

Then it struck him.

Perhaps she did not understand the common tongue.

_"Pedin i lam edhellen?"_ he inquired in the melodious tongue of Elvish.

The Elleth's eyes widened slightly at this. _"P-Pedin edhellen,"_ she hesitantly replied, as if testing her voice for the first time.

Grabbing the keys from a hook on the wall, Legolas walked over to her and unshackled the chains binding her to the wall. Her frail body crumpled to the ground, but the Elf caught her before she could hit solid stone. Removing the cloak from around his shoulders, he used it to cover her modestly, taking extra care in avoiding her open wounds.

_"M-Man le?"_ she asked still in Elvish.

_"Esgal i eneth nín,"_ he told her with a smile.

"Esgal?" her brows furrowed together in confusion. No doubt she understood the meaning behind his name.

"What is your name?" Legolas helped her stand shakily, allowing her to lean on him for support.

"Aeneth..."

He smiled again. "That's a pretty name," he said warmly.

The Elleth, Aeneth, ducked her head in response to his comment.

Carefully he led her out of the dungeons and up the spiral flight of stairs. Those who gave questioning looks were silenced with one glare from the Elf as he led Aeneth towards his chambers. He may be an assassin, but he was not heartless, especially not towards one of his own kind. The Elf also had questions as to why she was captured. Perhaps he can learn a few pieces of information about the Elvenking through her.

As soon as they were inside his chambers Legolas brought her over to the bed, gently easing her down and instructing her to wait as he went to retrieve a medical kit. He was taught medical techniques should he ever sustain a fatal injury during a task. Disappearing inside the wash room connected to his personal chambers, the Elf filled a basin full of water and placed a clean towel in it, this he brought over to Aeneth and allowed her to clean herself. Returning to the medical kit Legolas took out various herbs in small vials, pouring some of each inside a bowl. Next he used a pestle to grind up the herbs into a fine powder, which he then applied to clean bandages, bringing the strips over to the shaking Elleth.

"These will clean and disinfect the wounds," he said whilst wrapping them around the lacerations.

Aeneth cried out when the herbs touched her skin.

"Bear with me please."

"W-Why are you doing this for me?" murmured Aeneth through closed eyes.

"I cannot stand to see a fellow Elf suffering like you did," he merely said.

Her silver eyes locked onto his crimson ones. "You are an Elf are you not? You speak my tongue yet your eyes are crimson...and you do not glow like I do."

"I am different from you Aeneth," Legolas finished bandaging the last of her wounds and stood up.

The Elleth glanced down at her bandaged wounds, grateful that he had done a good job of tending to her injuries. In all honestly Aeneth was prepared to die in that room back there. She had been separated from her patrol earlier than morning, and was trying to find her way back to Mirkwood when a band of Goblins emerged from the woods. Outnumbered one to twenty, she barely had time to put up a fight prior to being dragged back to Dol Guldur, where she was then tortured horribly by those three...disgusting beasts.

_"Le hannon,"_ she finally said after a while.

"I will make sure no one will disturb you as you rest Aeneth. In time you will discover who I am and why I have survived for so long in Dol Guldur," Legolas began walking towards the door.

"Wait-"

His next response cut her off. "Yes. I am an Elf just like you Aeneth, but I do not glow because I have learned to keep the darkness from consuming my mind and soul."

Her entire body shuddered at the mention of mind and soul. She had heard stories of Elves succumbing to darkness and evil, how they became twisted and deranged until they no longer resembled Elves. They became Goblins. And Goblins hated being reminded of their once being Elves. The Elleth also knew the trees around the Hill of Sorcery were the same. The once-green trees had become corrupted with anger and hate, having absorbed the seeping malice from Dol Guldur for thousands of years until their light no longer existed.

_"Boe i'waen._ You have been through a lot this day, rest as long as you need. No one dare enter my chambers unless I give an order."

"Don't go!" Aeneth implored, not wanting to be left alone.

Legolas was already halfway out the door. _"Na lû e-govaned nin Aeneth,"_ he simply said as the door closed behind him.

* * *

Translations

Pedin i lam edhellen: Do you speak Elvish

Pedin edhellen: I speak Elvish

Man le: Who are you

Esgal i eneth nín: My name is Esgal

Le hannon: Thank you

Boe i'waen: I must go

Na lû e-govaned nin Aeneth: Until we next meet Aeneth


	2. Differences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having saved Aeneth's life from being tortured by the Goblins, Legolas soon has a confrontation with one of the sons of King Thranduil of Mirkwood...

When Legolas went to check on Aeneth later that evening he wasn't surprised to find her up and about. It was most likely the atmosphere in the black fortress that kept her from getting rest. It had taken the Elf years to grow accustomed to the darkness lurking in the shadows, years before he could finally sleep without worry of a nightly ambush from the Goblins or Orcs. They knew better than to offend him. He also had a feeling the Elleth probably had not eaten anything since her capture in Dol Guldur, and took it upon himself to make her a decent meal. He taught himself how to cook, in order to survive in the wild during missions, and since the Orcs and Goblins preferred a more... _raw_ approach to their meals. Aeneth would not appreciate being given a piece of raw meat that would drive the beasts insane.

"Did you get rest?" Legolas entered the room, balancing the tray precariously between his hands.

"I cannot rest in a place like this," Aeneth said without looking, then immediately grew suspicious upon seeing the tray in his hand.

"it is not poisoned if that is what you are afraid of," the Elf took a sip of the soup to prove his point.

She studied the bowl of soup in such a way that Legolas began wondering if she could sense poisons. However he knew very well it was not poisoned, as he made it himself just a mere while ago.

"I didn't know those  _things_ ate food like this," she finally said, putting emphasis on the word 'thing'.

"They do not. I do," Legolas stated bluntly.

"That would make sense..." Aeneth picked up the bowl, inhaling the warm aroma. "But why are you not eating?" she finished with a questioning look.

"I eat only when I need to."

Bringing a spoonful of the watery concoction up to her nose, the Elleth watched as pieces of potato floated around the bowl. Her hunger soon got the best of her, and Aeneth began eating without embarrassing herself in front of Legolas. The Elf took this chance to observe her more clearly, now that the blood was gone from her body, he could see she was a fair Elleth in her own right. High cheekbones, delicate nose and lips, coupled with the sapphire of her eyes really brought out the enhancing features of female Elves. Her small, lithe frame only added to that.

"Your glow is so bright it is almost blinding," the Elf said, averting his eyes to avoid causing himself any more pain.

He blinked rapidly in succession as well.

"I am sorry but I do not know how to hide it like you do. It also must be because I have been in Mirkwood my entire life," Aeneth bowed her head in apology.

"I can teach you how to dim it while you are here. The Goblins and Orcs hate anything that have to do with Light. The moment you leave my room, a swarm will no doubt be upon you," Legolas said, watching as her eyes enlarged slightly.

Silence.

Deciding she needed something to lift her spirits, Legolas stood up and walked over to the window. The curtains had been drawn to prevent unwelcome eyes from peering in, but night was when the Goblins and Orcs were on their patrols. Normally the Elf would not interfere unless need be, and the beasts knew better than to bring unnecessary trouble back. He flung the curtains open to reveal a starry night sky, a sight so captivating even Aeneth let out a soft gasp of appreciation.

"Why were you captured?" he asked without turning around.

At this the Elleth lowered her head in shame, the mere memory of her capture mortifying to recall.

"It was a routine patrol. Nothing unusual really, but we were suddenly attacked by Spiders from the Eastern Woods. I got separated during the chaos from the others. The next thing I knew was waking up in this horrid place, being tortured by those Goblins until you saved me."

Spiders.

Legolas knew of the Spiders.

He was often sent with several Berserker Orcs to their lair. Through the teachings of the Witch-King of Angmar, the Elf had the ability to communicate with the wild creatures, instructing them to patrol the Eastern Woods and prevent the Mirkwood Elves from coming near their territory. Of course he wasn't going to tell Aeneth he had something to do her patrol being attacked, but he played the part of a sympathetic Elf.

"What is it like in Mirkwood?"

"It is a wondrous place, full of Light and warmth. King Thranduil loves Mirkwood and does all he can to protect it," she placed the now empty bowl back on the tray and crossed her legs. "Why don't you know of Mirkwood? You are an Elf like you told me earlier, so should you not know how Mirkwood is like?" she inquired suspiciously.

"I grew up in Dol Guldur. I have no memories of where I came from or how I ended up here," Legolas removed the gloves from around his hand, lifting his right palm up to stare at it. "The only memory I have is a pair of warm hands embracing me when I was an infant, but that is all I can recall."

" _Goheno nin Esgal_..." murmured Aeneth softly.

" _Ú-moe edaved Aeneth_ ," Legolas responded.

Just as she was about to ask him another question, the abrupt whirl of his body towards the window caught her off guard.

"What is it?" she could not see anything from where she sat.

"Intruders..." hissed the Elf dangerously, "they appear to have come for you."

"It's the captain!"

He started for the door. "Stay here and do not leave this room."

"Don't kill them!" she pleaded.

"I cannot guarantee  _they_  won't kill them," Legolas said as the door slammed shut.

* * *

A group of Goblins and Orcs were causing a ruckus when Legolas arrived at the northern gates. His presence immediately silenced the beasts. Inwardly the Elf smirked at the fact. They had come to fear the assassin for who he is, and what he is capable of doing to them.

"Report," he commanded, affixing his gloves back on.

"A small band of Elves breached our territory Lord Esgal," one of the Berserker Orcs grunted.

Holding his hand out, a Goblin placed a bow and quiver of arrows in the open palm. These the Elf strapped to his back. There was no need for mounts or Warg Riders, as the Hill of Sorcery was not so easy to navigate. Without a guide directing them, the Elves would most certainly get lost within mere seconds. The trees also served to confuse them even further.

"How many are there?" Legolas gripped the bow tightly in his right hand and started walking towards the gate.

The small group followed.

"Twenty at least," a Goblin said.

"Split up and trap the group from both sides, do not allow them to penetrate further in. Wait for my signal before doing anything," the Elf ordered.

Several Goblins hissed and spat in response, but quieted when two Berserker Orcs swung their axes over their heads in warning.

"Are we allowed to kill them Lord Esgal?"

"I will handle them personally, and if they retaliate, fight."

The group snarled in eagerness.

Legolas hated having to fight his own kind, he never actually had to fight an Elf before, but he is an assassin. The Witch-King's champion. He had to defend Dol Guldur and carry out his duties.

"When I give the signal, surround the group and engage the Elves. I will hide in the shadows and deliver the final blow."

"Understood Lord Esgal."

* * *

Twenty Elves.

Legolas had to give them credit for breaking in so far without detection. But the trees of Dol Guldur were his allies, and they always helped him.

_Where are they?_ Legolas reached out to the blackened and twisted trees.

_South of here little Daelas_.

Daelas.

Shadowleaf.

That was his nickname from the trees.

When he first discovered this ability to commune with the trees of Dol Guldur, Legolas spent countless hours sitting on their limbs, listening to stories of old well into the night. Despite their anger and rage lashing out, corrupting them into what they were, the trees were reminded of their Light by the little Elf. Thus the entire forest swore to help the assassin whenever needed, and gave him the name of Daelas, derived from his original name of Legolas.

His ears picked up the sound of footprints and he raised a hand, stopping the group in their tracks.

"I smell their fear," a Goblin hissed under its breath.

"Silence," Legolas whispered harshly.

"Of course Lord Esgal."

Crimson eyes flicked back and forth between the shadows of the forest. Reaching out with his senses the assassin felt the presence of the Mirkwood Elves from afar, there were indeed twenty, but they were lost, confused, terrified of this shadowed forest.

With a flick of his fingers the group of Goblins and Orcs charged towards the direction of the Elves. Legolas used this chance to jump onto the nearest tree, being sure to stay out of sight but within range of the group. Pausing on a particularly thick limb the assassin waited, counting softly to himself, and sure enough, on the third beat the group came blundering out of the bushes.

Needless to say the Elves were more than startled.

They were disoriented.

Scattering in various directions like scared birds, the Elves did not know how to react to the sudden appearance of Goblins and Orcs. Despite their bravery at coming this far into the Hill of Sorcery, Legolas could not applaud them for their courage at this moment. Instead of joining the fight the Elf chose to observe more of the fight.

One Elf shouted loudly for them to regroup and fight back, and that seemed to bring a sense of direction to the misguided Elves. Hiding behind the shadowed trees they began firing arrows at the Goblins. Several bodies fell to the ground loudly, but this only served to enrage the survivors. Legolas knew very well that once aroused, the Goblins and Orcs would not stop until either they were dead, or their enemies were. However he also promised Aeneth no harm would come to the Elves.

Drawing an arrow from the quiver, Legolas nocked it onto his bow, took aim, and let it fly towards an Orc that tried to sneak up on an Elf.

With all those arrows flying it would be hard for them to tell he was actually the one shooting down his own supposed "companions".

On the other hand he could not kill  _too_ many of his own group without being suspected of foul play.

The Berserker Orcs did a fine job of injuring the Elves though.

That's when the assassin knew it was time for him to act.

Bringing his right hand to his mouth, he let out a sharp whistle, a signal for the group to stop attacking.

The confused Elves watched as the Goblins and Orcs scrambled backwards. Legolas then jumped down from the tree limb, landing gracefully on his feet and standing up. He had his hood drawn over his head, but the assassin knew the Elves would recognize him as one of their own.

"Is that an Elf?" one gasped, struggling to stand.

"Why is he with the Orcs and Goblins?" another added.

Oh if only they knew.

The assassin reached behind his back and drew forth two Elven blades, holding them in both hands. The weapons were crafted by a blacksmith Elf he had once saved, and in return, the same Elf graced Legolas with all his weapons. To prevent harm from coming to that Elf, the assassin had him hide in a location known only to himself. Often times he would go and visit, if not to replace his daggers, to chat about how they have been.

One Elf, a male, the only one with enough strength left to fight, stood in front of Legolas.

"Prince Aradhel!"

So he was a Prince?

"I am Prince Aradhel, son of Thranduil Elvenking and Edlothiad of Mirkwood. Why are you, an Elf, allied with those of the shadows?" Aradhel said to Legolas.

"Silence! Don't speak to Lord Esgal like that you damn tree-rat!" a Goblin shouted.

Legolas raised a hand up.

"You have entered the realm of Dol Guldur, ruled by the Witch-King of Angmar. My name is Esgal, the Nazgûl Lord's champion, assassin of the shadows. Leave before I am forced to take drastic measures," he said.

"Then you must be a shadowed Elf, a fallen brethren of ours corrupted by the Darkness. As a Wood-Elf, and son of Thranduil, it is my duty to bring you peace."

Before Aradhel could act, Legolas already darted forward. With speed impossible for an Elf, yet plausible for Legolas, he struck the Prince right on the solar plexus with enough force to render him unconscious. Seeing their leader brought down with a single strike, the remaining Mirkwood Elves gathered up their courage and formed a circle around Legolas.

"You shall pay for doing that to Prince Aradhel!" one hissed angrily.

Legolas smirked behind his hood.

"Come," he challenged.

Come they did.

As one the band of Elves leapt at Legolas with weapons drawn, but the lithe assassin had already moved out of harm's way by the time the Elves registered what had happened. Relying on his skills and hand-to-hand combat, the Elf made each member drop their weapons first, then subdued them with various kicks and his knowledge of anatomy. He would not kill them. No. He was not heartless enough to harm his own kind, but he will hurt them enough to avoid being questioned by the Ringwraiths.

Once the Elves were all on their knees, Legolas signaled for his group to emerge. The tired, battered Elves looked on wearily as snarling teeth and sharpened steel waved about their faces. Just before they could pounce on the helpless group, the assassin restrained them.

"Lord Esgal!" one Orc huffed in annoyance.

"No. Let them go. Let them return to Mirkwood with what happened here today," Legolas bent and picked up an unconscious Aradhel by the collar of his tunic. "But we will bring this one back. A Prince and son of Thranduil will serve as good leverage in the days to come," he finished.

"Unhand him you monster!" a female Elf shouted.

She was silenced with a slap to the face by a Goblin.

"I would love to sink my fangs into that pretty neck of yours tree-rat, but Lord Esgal has commanded you all to live. Be grateful you all survive! For none who run into Lord Esgal live to tell the tale," it spat in her face.

"Fixx! Enough," Legolas reprimanded sharply.

The Goblin named Fixx hissed once more in the Elleth's face, but backed off to rejoin the rest of his group.

Signaling to two Berserker Orcs to carry the unconscious Prince, Legolas turned around and began walking away from the injured Elves.

* * *

To say Aeneth was a nervous wreck was an understatement.

The entire time she was locked up in Esgal's room, the Elleth tried  _every_ way possible to escape. She couldn't jump out the window, it was too tall of a jump for her to make without breaking her legs. The doors were locked from the outside, and the only window was the one she had no courage to leap from. Aeneth knew her Prince was coming for her, since he was Captain of the Guards, but she was more terrified of Esgal harming him to even think rationally.

Finally the door opened and Esgal walked in.

"Esgal! What happened? Where are the others who came for me?" the Elleth demanded before he could even speak.

"They are safe. I allowed them to return to Mirkwood," the Elf began.

Aeneth breathed a heavy sigh of relief.

"But I brought Aradhel back with me."

The color drained from her face.

"You brought Prince Aradhel back with you?... _why_!" the Elleth shouted angrily at Esgal, throwing a pillow at him for good measure.

Said Elf merely ducked his head to the side. "I am a assassin Aeneth. It's what I do.  _This_ is who I am," he spread his arms for her to see.

"All I see is a traitorous Elf clad in black armor,  _working_ for the Witch-King and one who has  _no_ will of his own!" spat Aeneth venomously.

"Do not make me regret saving you from those Goblins," Legolas narrowed his eyes, his crimson pupils flashing dangerously.

"Kill me! I'd rather die than let the others know I was saved by the likes of you!"

Without warning Legolas pinned Aeneth down on the bed, his face hovering mere inches from hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the silkiness of his hair caressing her cheeks like soft feathers. But when she looked in his eyes, the Elleth saw pain. Pain and agony so great, her own sapphire eyes averted themselves instinctively to avoid those burning pupils.

"I have never killed an Elf before Aeneth... _do not_ make me break that vow here," he said softly, releasing her arms in the process.

Slowly she sat up whilst Legolas retreated towards the door.

"I will not kill him Aeneth, this I swear to you."

She was left alone again.

* * *

-Mirkwood-

The band of injured Elves stumbled into the clearing of a vast palace in the middle of the forest. Some could barely walk, those with strength left carried their injured comrades between their arms. It was a great loss for them this day. Not only had they failed to rescue Aeneth from Dol Guldur, they also watched helplessly as their Prince was taken from them.

All because of a single Elf.

With their leader gone, it meant that Glaer was now the temporary captain until the safe return of their Prince.

King Thranduil and his family were awaiting the small group at the front gates. The Elvenking had a sense of foreboding earlier that day, that something happened to his beloved son. Two thousand years ago, his first born, Legolas, was taken in the middle of the night and never heard from again. The nursemaid in charge of watching over the small infant, told the Elvenking a sudden wave of sleep had washed over her. When she finally awoke the small infant Elfling was not in his crib, and there were no signs of forced entry into the room.

Right away he knew it had to be the Witch-King's doing.

But what could he do?

Surely his own power was not strong enough to take down Dol Guldur and retrieve Legolas.

Whatever hopes he had left of his son's survival were slowly being drained, day after day, night after night. Thranduil mourned for many moons, mourning for the son he failed to protect, and his own worthlessness as a father. Only after he took another queen, did the Elvenking regain his composure as ruler of Mirkwood. With Edlothiad by his side, Thranduil had four children with her. Aradhel was the eldest, and Crown Prince of Mirkwood, Arastor was the second born, and twins Arodeth and Lalaith were the two Princesses of Mirkwood.

Yet Thranduil would always think of his little Greenleaf.

"My lord!" Glaer gasped as his knees buckled just in front of the Elvenking.

"Glaer!" Arastor caught the Elf in his arms, "Where is my brother? Why is Aradhel not with you?" the second Prince asked, frantically looking around for signs of his elder brother.

"Prince Aradhel..." Glaer clutched his abdomen in pain, "was captured by..." he doubled over as the agony became too great. That Elf really did a number to his ribs.

"By who? Tell me Glaer!"

"A-"

Glaer passed out before he could finish his sentence.

"Take him to the healing wing this instant!" commanded Thranduil.

More Elves appeared from within the castle, coming out to carry the injured Elves inside to be treated for their injuries. Thranduil spun around to start walking back inside the castle he called home. No. It couldn't be called a home. Not anymore. No laughter passed through the somber halls, no light filled the air as one walked, even the guards were stoic and emotionless.

It had been this way for two thousand years.

Since the disappearance of Legolas.

Wordlessly the Elvenking walked inside the throne room, sitting on the ornate chair reserved for rulers of Mirkwood. His three children stood silently in front of their father and King, though their eyes never flicked up once to meet that of Thranduil's own. Tomorrow was the day. The day when Legolas was taken as an infant, snatched up in the silence of the night. For two thousand years no one forgot. The grief was too great for the Elvenking to bear, and with every day that passed, he could feel a little more of his soul dying.

" _Ada_...we will bring Aradhel back," Arastor was the first to break the silence.

"Two thousand years ago I lost your eldest brother Legolas to the darkness...and now Aradhel has been captured by the same force. How many more of my children must I lose before I join the Valar?" the Elvenking's voice was tinged with sorrow and grief.

His children flocked around him on the throne.

" _Ada_?" Arodeth's voice did little to soothe the Elvenking's ache.

The three siblings shared a look amongst themselves. They all knew— themselves, their mother, the guards— their father suffered greatly and never got over the disappearance of their missing eldest brother. Yet there was nothing they could do to bring joy and happiness back in Thranduil's life. Every day they would patrol the borders, go on scouting missions to try and see what they could learn. But it was futile. They could not find a way past the angry trees that marked the borders of Dol Guldur. It was only when Aradhel brought a small band of Elves to carefully break in did they have a sliver of hope. That too, was crushed just as easily.

"I am fine my children," Thranduil tried to smile, but his lips refused to turn upward. "I am fine," he stated firmly again.

The children knew he was lying.

"You cannot go on like this  _Ada_... _we_ cannot go on like this," Lalaith said, voice strained and concerned.

"But we must. I believe your eldest brother is out there Lalaith, I believe he is still alive."

Instead of answering the three children merely embraced their father. For many moons now the Royal Family of Mirkwood had clung to hope, but even their grip on that was slowly being torn. If Thranduil were to join the Valar, his children will surely follow not soon after. Without a leader, Mirkwood will succumb to the darkness, and even now their ability to hold back the Shadows were waning. If Thranduil were to give up then Mirkwood will cease to exist. Being the proud Wood-Elves that they were, Mirkwood had a reputation for being cold and unfriendly towards outsiders, and them asking for help would not sit well with the Royal Family.

Therefore the children did the only thing they could do.

They prayed.

* * *

A bucket of cold water was poured over Aradhel's body, jerking the Prince away as he coughed and sputtered. Trying to move his arms and legs, the Prince realized he was chained to the wall. Several Goblins and Orcs stood in front of him, each bearing sharp knives with wicked edges. One also had a bucket in its hand. No doubt it was the one that had splashed water on him.

"Look at the tree-rat that just woke up," one Goblin hissed.

"I wonder how your flesh tastes like," another said, running a grotesque finger down the Elf's face.

The largest Orc rounded on his smaller companions. "We are to leave him alone until Lord Esgal gets here," it grunted to them.

Hazel eyes flicked upward to the door at that moment. The same Elf that had knocked him out walked in, and with a single wave of his hand, dismissed the beasts just as easily as before.

"What do you want?" the Prince spat in contempt.

Legolas did not answer, but merely stepped aside to allow someone else to come in.

"Aeneth?" Aradhel breathed in shock.

"Prince Aradhel!"

The Elleth ran over and threw her arms around his neck, weeping loudly for the two Elves to hear. As much as he wanted to hold her and reassure he was unharmed, Aradhel was not in any position to do so. Instead he cast a look over to the mysterious Elf known as Esgal, watching as those crimson eyes never left the closed door. Sweeping downwards the Prince could see the Elf carried a plethora of weapons—some better concealed than others— on his body.

"Are you hurt?" Aeneth asked, checking him over for injures.

"No but your friend over there did a fine job in knocking me out," Aradhel indicated towards the standing Elf.

"Esgal said he won't let harm come to you whilst you're here," the Elleth said in a low voice.

The Prince let out an amused chuckle. "How can you trust him Aeneth?"

"Because he saved my life  _and_ yours Prince Aradhel."


	3. Escapes & Talks

Aradhel blinked a couple of times after Aeneth explained what had happened since her capture. During the conversation Esgal had not spoken a word, choosing instead to keep vigil by the door. The two Mirkwood Elves continued to talk quietly. The Prince's eyes never left that of the cloaked assassin's for very long, fearing a dagger would come flying his way any minute.

"You are sure he is trustworthy?" Aradhel whispered to Aeneth.

"He saved our lives," countered the Elleth.

"He does not glow, yet he is an Elf like us."

Esgal walked over to the duo, having picked up on their conversation and no longer wanted to keep quiet. "My glow has been suppressed. It is necessary for my survival here in Dol Guldur."

"If you really are on our side then please, let us go!" Aeneth grabbed Esgal's gloved hand in hers.

The cloaked assassin hardened his expression. "I cannot do that. I have a duty to the Witch-King," he stated firmly.

Prince Aradhel grew angry. "You would rather side with  _them_ than your own kind? You are a traitor!"

"Look closely at  _what_ I am," Esgal took out a mask from his pouch, deftly tying it around his face. The fine Elven metal concealed everything but his eyes. Those crimson irises burning a hole into the very souls of both Elves. Aeneth realized just how frightening the assassin truly looked with his Elven features hidden. No wonder his name is Esgal. Any being that gazes into those eyes are sure to be paralyzed with fear.

"I am an assassin. This is what I do. This is  _who_ I really am," though muffled by the mask, Esgal's voice retained its deadly tone.

Aeneth pressed her face against Aradhel's shoulder, unwilling to look into those eyes for another second.

"The Witch-King will come for you later," the assassin said.

The Mirkwood Elves watched silently as Esgal departed the room. For a while neither dared move nor breath, but Aeneth gained enough courage to creep towards the door. She gave it a push, it didn't move. She pushed a little harder but the oak remained firmly shut.

It was locked.

"He locked us in here," she said to the Prince.

"This is what we get for trusting him," scoffed Aradhel.

"What are we going to do? He said the Witch-King will come for us later. If he finds out you're the Crown Prince of Mirkwood, he will certainly use you against King Thranduil!" Aeneth's pale face grew even paler at the thought of Aradhel being beheaded in front of his father.

Aradhel yanked on the chains. "See if you can get these chains off me first," he said to her.

* * *

Legolas stood before the Witch-King, reporting about the attempted infiltration from earlier. Upon hearing about the capture of a Mirkwood Prince, the Nazgûl Lord became extremely pleased. The other eight Ringwraiths had returned from Minas Morgul earlier, and joined the duo in the throne room of Dol Guldur. Nine seats spread out in a semi-circle, with the Witch-King's being the most ornate. Legolas stood in the center, facing the Witch-King but the other eight were able to see him as well.

"You have done well Legolas," praised the Nazgûl Lord.

"It is my duty," the assassin simply answered.

"Now about our guests-"

An Orc ran into the meeting room, brandishing a battle axe in hand. Legolas' sharp ears picked up the sounds of screeching and hissing from the lower halls, and he spun around just as the Ringwraiths stood from their thrones. A small smirk crossed the assassin's lips but quickly vanished, replaced with his normal stoic expression. Those two had courage. He never expected them to actually break free from the room and survive being slaughtered by Orcs and Goblins.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, though knew the answer way before the Orc spoke.

"The prisoners have escaped and are coming this way!" the Orc grunted, blood dripping down its helmet.

So his suspicions were correct.

"They will not get far," the assassin made to move, drawing forth his blades.

An arrow suddenly flew right at the Orc, killing it immediately, its armored body falling over on the marble floors with a loud thud. Another was right on its tail, but Legolas caught the wooden shaft nimbly between his hand, unwilling to let it hit the Ringwraith. By now all nine have lined up behind the assassin. Throwing the projectile aside, the Elf held his blades out but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

Then Aradhel and Aeneth ran into view.

It appears the two Mirkwood Elves not only broke out, but somehow managed to procure weapons for themselves. Aradhel held a bow in his hand, whilst Aeneth had swords strapped to her waist. It was easy enough to guess how they had gotten them. They must have slain several Goblins and took those off their bodies. Blood fell on the ground, staining the floor in black, filling the air with the rather pungent smell of Orc and Goblin blood alike.

"You two must be the prisoners," the Witch-King said ominously.

A breeze blew in through the window just then, billowing the Ringwraiths's capes like curtains, adding to the tension in the room. Combined with the red of the assassin's eyes, it was difficult for the two Mirkwood Elves not to shudder at the mere sight.

"Let us go!" Aradhel demanded.

"There is no escaping from Dol Guldur," Legolas stated.

"You took us here, you can get us out. Esgal you are an Elf like us, please let us go!" pleaded the Elleth from behind the Prince's back.

"I am the Witch-King's champion. I answer to him alone," Legolas flicked his wrists, holding Elven daggers in both hands. One movement and they would spout blood from where they stood.

"Stand down Esgal," ordered the Nazgûl Lord.

Legolas obeyed.

Stepping forward around the assassin, the Ringwraith stood in front of the two Elves. A loud, horrible screeching filled the air from outside. Aradhel and Aeneth clutched their ears in pain. Legolas knew exactly what the sound was. He had heard it plenty of times before in the black fortress. Now it no longer bothered him. The first time he ever heard such a sound was when he was but an Elfling, being trained by the Witch-King to endure the cries of such a creature so as he would not faint from the pain it caused.

The cry of a Fell Beast.

Gigantic winged beasts that were the personal mounts of the Ringwraiths.

A gift from Sauron himself to his Nine Riders.

To those who were not used to the cry of a Fell Beast, the sound can be exceedingly painful to endure.

"I commend you for coming this far," the Witch-King raised a hand. The assassin whistled sharply between his fingers, "but you have nowhere to run." finished the Ringwraith.

A swarm of Orcs and Goblins barreled through the open door. Now the duo were truly surrounded on both sides.

"If you can defeat them, then I will set you free."

The other eight Nazgûl stirred restlessly at this.

"And if we lose" Aradhel said.

"Then you die."

Legolas felt his own arm twitch slightly. It was a meaningless offer. This he knew very well. If the task was given to him, he could easily slay them all within mere seconds, but for those two it would be impossible to fight so many without knowing how.

"That is an impossible task!" exclaimed the Mirkwood Prince.

"If your will to live is strong, you will find a way."

Legolas could easily see the weak points thanks to the lenses he still wore, but he knew Aradhel and Aeneth could not and will have to find openings under all that thick armor the beasts wore.

Yet he is powerless to help them.

"Begin," the Witch-King said.

* * *

Aradhel and Aeneth lost count of how many Orcs and Goblins were attacking them. The only thing they were sure of was the fatigue in their bodies, the ache of their limbs, and the sweat beading their foreheads. The wave of Orcs and Goblins seemed never-ending. The Mirkwood Prince slashed at another Berserker Orc, its black blood covering his hands. Most of all the wounds were on his body, as he kept Aeneth out of harm's way.

"How are you holding up Aeneth?" panted Aradhel.

"I can still fight," the Elleth answered.

Suddenly the Orcs and Goblins ceased their assault. The two Mirkwood Elves stood side by side, bearing equally exhausted expressions.

"Esgal," the Witch-King lifted a hand.

The assassin stepped forward.

"If you can defeat my champion, I will set you free."

"Don't mess with us!" the silver-haired Prince shouted angrily.

"Then I will simply present your head to your father. How does that sound?"

Aradhel's face was the epitome of rage.

With a deafening cry that even the Elf Prince had no idea he was capable of, Aradhel flew at the exposed Witch-King, blade drawn and ready to plunge. Though the Witch-King is protected by the Black Breath, and any weapon that comes in contact is destroyed and their bearer poisoned, Legolas still had a duty to protect the Ringwraith. Pressing forward from where he stood, the assassin had pinned the Elf Prince against the wall with a blade pressed against his throat. Aradhel did not see it coming. The only thing he could feel was the cold metal scraping against his skin.

"Kill me now!" he hissed venomously.

"We need you as leverage against King Thranduil."

"Do not bring my father into this!" roared Aradhel angrily, struggling to break free from Legolas' iron grip.

Curling his hand into a fist the assassin punched Aradhel right in the stomach. The blow knocked the wind out of the Mirkwood Prince, and Legolas used this chance to discreetly seal a pressure point, making it look like he passed out. The Elf slumped over in his arms, and the assassin brought the body before the Ringwraith.

"Prince Aradhel!"

Legolas gave Aeneth the same treatment.

"I think it's time we paid King Thranduil a visit," announced the Witch-King.

* * *

Thranduil was seated on his ornate throne, a crown of leaves and twigs adorning the back of his head like a collar. The Elvenking was awaiting news of Aradhel, who has been missing for two days since the others came back. Scouts reported no signs of a body, which mean his son is still alive, but for how long? If he lost another child, the Elvenking is sure he will join the Valar without a fight. These past two days have been torturous for Thranduil. Having neither slept nor eaten, everyone in the Royal Family is fearing for the life of their beloved ruler.

" _Ada_..." Lalaith knelt next to her father's throne.

"Any news of your brother?"

Lalaith lowered her head.

"My son..."

"I believe Aradhel is waiting for us to save him," Arodeth said in hopes of cheering her father up.

At that moment a terrible screeching echoed in the air. Leaping to his feet the Elvenking ran to the window. The twin Princesses ran after their father, all three peering out to find guards amassing at the northern gates.

"My King!" a guard burst in through the doors, a look of pure terror on his face.

"What is going on?" demanded Thranduil.

"It's the Nazgûl! They've come from Dol Guldur and Prince Aradhel is with them!"

Thranduil was gone before the guard could finish.

* * *

Legolas led the rather strange entourage of Goblins and Orcs towards the direction of Mirkwood's palace. He himself was seated upon a black horse, with his hood and mask donned to protect his identity from the Wood-Elves. Two Berserker Orcs each carried an unconscious Aradhel and Aeneth between them, their limp feet dragging upon the forest floor. They weren't dead. No. They just looked like they were. He had sealed a pressure point earlier with a needle, putting them in a state of fake death. Once the needle was removed then they will wake up, but if the time passed before he could take it out, then they will lose their lives.

Flying overhead on their great Fell Beasts were the Ringwraths. The Witch-King landed beside the assassin, the duo waiting for the doors of Mirkwood to fly open.

Fly open the doors did.

Out came Thranduil, in his full rage and glory, silver robe sweeping behind like a curtain, hatred and anger written all over his face. The Elvenking was followed by two Elleths that were identical to one another, and a group of guards that were rushing to protect their monarch. Once Thranduil saw the state of his two children— whom Legolas ordered to be placed on the ground before them— the Elf staggered backwards in shock.

The two Elleths let out identical gasps of horror.

"Brother!"

Thranduil spread his arms out to prevent his daughters from running forward.

"Thranduil Elvenking..." the Witch-King rasped from atop the Fell Beast's back.

"What have you done with my son?" Thranduil demanded, having regained control of his senses.

"Esgal," the Ringwraith raised a hand.

Said assassin stepped forward towards the still bodies, next he bent down and swiftly removed two thin needles from the pressure points. Both Aradhel and Aeneth stirred moments after that, and their eyes fluttered open in confusion. However Legolas had the Orcs restrain the two in case they tried running for the Elvenking.

"Let them go!"

"Hasty aren't we? My master would appreciate it very much if Mirkwood became a part of his territory."

"Mirkwood will never fall to the Darkness!" one of the Elleths shouted.

The Witch-King let out a laugh at this.

" _Ada_!"

Legolas turned his attention to the direction of the voice, as a group of Elves came running from the southern woods to join the Elvenking.

"Arastor! My son," Thranduil was relieved to find his son unharmed.

"I heard screeching and came back as soon as I could with the scouts," the Elf named Arastor answered.

Whilst the father and son duo conversed with one another, Legolas cocked his head towards the Witch-King. With a slight raise of his hand, the Ringwraith signaled Legolas to walk forward. The moment he did, every Elf from Mirkwood affixed their gazes onto him. Keeping his hood up the entire time, Legolas stopped halfway from where the Elvenking stood.

"My name is Esgal, the Witch-King's champion and assassin of the shadows. My master has an offer for you, Thranduil Elvenking."

Instead of answering the Elvenking stared at the cloaked assassin, his posture gone rigid as he knew the assassin was an Elf. It was something he knew instinctively, despite his opponent being cloaked from head to toe.

"Are you..."

* * *

-Imladris-

"Elladan! Elrohir! COME HERE THIS INSTANT!" a golden-haired Elf clad in silver armor roared, running angrily down the hallway of the Last Homely Home, hot on the trail of two identical twin Elves.

"Run for it Elladan!" Elrohir shouted to his brother with a grin.

The two were the twin sons of Elrond, lord of Imladris, and were currently trying to outrun an angry— and berry-covered— Glorfindel. The two had set up the elaborate prank earlier that morning, hoping to catch some unsuspecting maid or guard in it, but instead they caught the one Elf they never wanted to antagonize.

The Balrog-Slayer.

"When I catch you two I will skin you alive and hang you from the trees!" threatened Glorfindel, speeding down the hallway in an undignified manner.

The twins rounded the hallway and each dove for separate doors. By the time the Vanyar caught up, they had already disappeared from sight. Muttering colorful words to himself, Glorfindel began to trek back towards his own chambers within the enormous home. Along the way he passed by the study of Lord Elrond, the ancient Peredhel had just opened the doors to find a berry-covered Elf Lord muttering dark words.

"Is something the matter Glorfindel?" inquired Elrond, arching an eyebrow skywards.

"Lord Elrond," Glorfindel bowed low, dripping juices all over the floor in the process.

Elrond tried to hold back a chuckle. "I see you have fallen prey to yet another one of the twins prank," he indicated towards the violet colored armor.

"I need to teach those two a lesson in humiliation one day," grumbled Glorfindel.

Reaching for a towel kept in the study, Elrond handed this to the Elf-Lord, watching as Glorfindel began to wipe up the residue from his armor. It will come off with a thorough washing, as will the juices in his hair. The Peredhel made a mental note to admonish his sons about playing tricks on the people living in his home.

"Excuse me Lord Elrond, I must go make myself presentable."

Glorfindel hurried off towards his own chambers.

With a light chuckle of amusement Elrond headed for the dining hall to have a light meal. His only daughter Arwen was in Lothlórien, visiting her grandparents and will return with them in a day's time. Galadriel, Lady of the Woods, also said she needed to talk to Elrond and Gandalf about a vision she had. It was rather difficult to get a hold of the Istari, but somehow Elrond managed to get word to Gandalf the Grey. Now he just needed to await their arrival.

Another thing also bothered the ancient healer.

The Darkness in Mirkwood is spreading, and Thranduil is losing his will to hold it back. If nothing is done, the Green Forest will become a part of Dol Guldur.

Pushing these thoughts out of his head for the moment, Elrond turned the corner and headed inside the dining hall.

It was going to be a long day.


	4. Blood-stained Hands

Thranduil stared at the cloaked Elf standing mere inches from where he himself stood. The Elvenking knew instinctively that the assassin was one of his own. He could tell that much despite the cloak and hood hiding the other's features. It was something inside that was telling him that the Elf was someone he knew. Call it a father's instincts to know when his own son was around, but Thranduil was not sure if this was truly his lost son Legolas. It has been over two thousand years since he was taken as an infant, no doubt his son would have grown into a fine Elf if he were still alive.

"Are you an Elf? Why are you with the Witch-King?" Thranduil asked, taking a few uneasy steps forward. Several guards stepped forward to stop him, but the Elvenking waved them off.

Legolas didn't answer.

"Do you know of my son?" continued the Elvenking.

"I know naught of what you speak," Legolas replied through the mask.

Arastor used this chance to launch a surprise attack on the assassin. Fortunately Legolas was well trained, and successfully blocked the attack with the blade of his sword. Aradhel and Aeneth also took advantage of the situation to break free from the Berserker Orcs, running over to join the second Prince.

It was a three against one battle.

"You're not winning this one so easily," panted Aradhel.

"Never underestimate an assassin."

The Legolas struck.

He became a deadly dance of whirling blades.

Even when outnumbered the assassin fought fluidly, like water coursing along a stream. Ducking to avoid the sword over his head, Legolas grabbed Aradhel's wrist and twisted.

He let out an agonized scream.

"Brother!"

Pushing the injured Crown Prince away from him, the Elf staggered backwards into the arms of his father. Now it was Arastor and Aeneth left to fight against the masked assassin. Reaching for one of the blades strapped to his back, Legolas pulled it out, holding it back-handed and circling the two Mirkwood Elves. Aeneth pulled out an arrow, shooting it at Legolas. Distracted by the projectile, he failed to see Arastor attack his back with a sword.

The cut was deep enough to draw blood.

Cursing softly to himself, Legolas kicked Arastor sharply in the chest. The impact sent the second Prince sprawling onto the ground. With the Elleth left standing, the assassin made to incapacitate her, but both Arastor and Aradhel recovered faster than anticipated. Together the siblings jumped in front of Aeneth just as Legolas struck. Swerving his blade to the side to avoid taking their lives, Legolas rendered himself open for a double kick to the chest.

The force of the kicks knocked the wind out of him momentarily, but he quickly recovered and holding a hand against his chest, the assassin assessed the situation carefully through his mask. Arastor and Aradhel were clearly tired from their fight, while Aeneth stood to the side, bow in hand and arrow trained on him. One wrong move and that tip will pierce through his body, perhaps not enough to kill him, but certainly deep enough to inhibit his movements.

"You won't win against the three of us," Arastor shouted.

Crimson eyes flicked towards the eldest brother, noting how Aradhel was cradling his injured wrist against his body. Flicking his wrists briefly to allow a dagger to slide through, Legolas threw it with deadly accuracy towards him. His aim was to injure the Prince just enough to prevent him from fighting further, but at the last minute Aeneth pushed him out of the way, the dagger burying itself in her spine.

"Aeneth! No!" Aradhel cried, catching her falling body.

Legolas was stunned.

He hadn't meant for her to get in the way.

Nor did he mean to kill anyone.

"Esgal," the Witch-King's voice broke Legolas out of his shocked state.

The assassin jumped into the air, twisting gracefully to land on the ground beside the Ringwraith.

When Aradhel looked over to the Elf, his eyes were full of hatred and rage. "You  _killed_ her! You swore you would never harm her Esgal!" shouted the Crown Prince venomously.

Clenching his hands into fists to prevent them from trembling, Legolas did not answer as he lowered his head a slight fraction down. Taking deep breaths to calm his swirling emotions, the assassin exhaled slowly then lifted his chin up. He did not mean to kill Aeneth. It was an accident. If the Crown Prince hates him then so be it. If she hadn't pushed him out of the way, no one would have had to die.

Taking up Aeneth's bow and arrows from the ground, Arastor nocked an arrow onto the string, took aim, and fired the projectile right at the assassin. Legolas lowered his head to avoid being hit, but the tip of the arrow grazed the material of his hood. Combined with the sudden gust of wind, it knocked the hood down to reveal silver hair and pointed ears belonging to an Elf.

Thranduil's eyes widened in shock.

"Legolas? Are you Legolas? Tell me are you my lost son?" he asked.

Just then a loud screech from the Fell Beast filled the air, causing all Mirkwood Elves to cover his or her ears from the horrible sound. Using this chance Legolas pulled up his hood again. Then he swiftly mounted his horse, pulling the horse backwards as a mist covered the area. The Witch-King and the Ringwraiths grew restless at this, even the assassin had to keep himself from falling off. Slowly a figure materialized from the mist, standing before the entourage. Immediately the Orcs and Goblins knelt on the ground. Legolas lowered his head in respect, whilst the Ringwraiths did the same.

It was the Necromancer.

* * *

After a nice bath to rid himself of the berry juices from his hair, Glorfindel dressed in a rich robe of silver. Now that he has returned to Imladris from his daily patrols, there was no need to wear his armor. Though the Vanyar was still very sour from the prank earlier by the twins. Rounding the corner that led to the dining hall, Glorfindel bumped into another Elf.

"Greetings Lord Glorfindel," Erestor said.

"Lord Erestor," Glorfindel bowed his head in respect.

As Chief Councilor of Elrond's domain, Erestor commanded respect even when not sitting in a conference.

"Have you seen Lord Elrond anywhere?" asked the Balrog-Slayer.

"He is in the dining hall. Would you care to join me as I go?"

Glorfindel gave a nod.

Together the two Elves started down the marble hallway, quietly discussing matters that have been plaguing the Elven realm as of late. Glorfindel was surprised to learn Elrond had asked him to join the next conference with Gandalf and Galadriel. Normally the Vanyar would not interfere in matters that did not pertain to him, but if the Peredhel needed his presence there, then it must be of great importance.

Pushing the doors open the two were startled to see Gandalf seated next to Elrond.

"Mithrandir!"

The Grey Wizard looked up at the two and smiled warmly.

"We were not warned of your arrival," Glorfindel bowed to the Istari.

"I just recently arrived," answered Gandalf with a small chuckle.

Elrond beckoned at the two. "Come join us at the table," he said.

Glorfindel and Erestor both sat down on opposites of the other two. His hunger getting the better of him, the Vanyar reached for a slab of lembas bread, breaking it into small pieces and biting them.

"How have your travels been Mithrandir?" Erestor asked, helping himself to an apple.

"Quite lovely actually. I have befriended Hobbits and Dwarves alike," answered Gandalf as he puffed away on his pipe.

Elrond arched an eyebrow. "The Dwarves from Erebor? Thorin is still alive?"

"He plans to reclaim his kingdom from Smaug."

All three Elves stilled their movements.

"That is an impossible task...Smaug is the last dragon on Middle-Earth and nothing can penetrate his hide," Glorfindel finally said.

"Thorin is no fool. He knows this task is impossible, yet he continues with confidence and courage. He leads a band of twelve other Dwarves with him, I have only met him briefly once. But I said I will meet them again at the Shire, inside the home of a certain Hobbit."

"A Hobbit?" Erestor frowned slightly.

"Bilbo Baggins."

The Elf-Lord paused and thought carefully. "How did you convince Thorin to retake his kingdom?"

"I had a run in with him at Bree, and a small conversation rekindled his quest of taking back what is rightfully his. I know just as well as he does of his quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountains from Smaug, and restore Erebor to its former glory."

Elrond closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I hope this quest does not lead Thorin Oakenshield to his death. Nothing can penetrate the hide of a dragon, Thorin knows this yet he continues to march upon this path."

"They will come to you soon Elrond. Thorin possesses a map that is written in moon runes, and there is not one Elf I know who is as knowledgeable as you are in reading and deciphering them."

The Peredhel inclined his head. "I will do what I can when he arrives in Imladris, though I am not sure he will be trusting of Elves, given what has happened between him and Thranduil."

* * *

Elladan and Elrohir were riding through the forest on their horses, racing one another to see who can return home the fastest. They had deliberately left their home to avoid the wrath of Glorfindel. Knowing it would take a while for the Elf-Lord to calm his temper, the twins decided to see how far they can go.

"Run faster Elrohir!" Elladan shouted joyously.

"I would watch your step Elladan!" retorted his brother.

Their horses leapt over a fallen log, then continued running forward at a steady pace.

"I think I see something," Elrohir pulled his mare to a slow trot.

Up ahead the twins could see a small group of Elves marching their way. At first they assumed it was Mirkwood Elves, but when they spotted a certain March-warden in the front, they knew instantly it was their grandparents coming for a visit.

" _Daeradar_!  _Daernaneth_!"

The twins came to a stop right in front of Haldir. The March-warden was a bit startled to find two figures charging towards him from the forest, but his eyes were able to make out the familiar faces of Elladan and Elrohir.

Galadriel and Celeborn were both seated upon white horses, the Lord and Lady of the Woods were clad in identical garments of white, their flowing hair covering their backs like thick curtains. Seated in between them was Arwen, and the twins grinned at their little sister.

"Well if it isn't Arwen," Elladan said.

"How have you been dear sister?" added Elrohir.

Arwen smiled at the sight of her brothers. "I doubt you two have missed me that much," she said with a small laugh.

"Why are you two in the middle of the woods?" Haldir scowled reproachfully at the twins.

"We were trying to hide from Lord Glorfindel."

Haldir shook his head and sighed heavily. "I assume he must have fallen into one of your pranks," muttered the March-warden.

"You know us too well Haldir," grinned Elladan.

* * *

Needless to say Elrond was not impressed with his sons when the group from Lothlórien arrived at the gates of Imladris. Standing next to him were Gandalf, Erestor, and Glorfindel. The Elf-Lord glowered darkly at the twins, making a slight motion with his hands. Elladan and Elrohir shared a brief look of horror, one that did not go unnoticed by Haldir and Glorfindel.

"Elrond it is good to see you," Galadriel said as she gracefully dismounted.

"It has been a long time," agreed the healer.

Gandalf shuffled forward to stand next to Elrond, leaning on his staff and giving the Lady of the Woods a big grin. Galadriel's lips turned up as she lowered her head briefly to the Istari.

"Mithrandir," greeted Galadriel.

"It is always a pleasure to see you Lady Galadriel," the Istari tipped his hat in greeting.

Celeborn also lowered his head to Gandalf, then grasped his wife's hand as Elrond led them inside.

"Elladan, Elrohir, you two are coming with me," Glorfindel dragged the twins by the collars of their tunics.

" _Ada!_  Help us!"

Elrond paused and turned his body around. "I cannot save you from this my sons. Nor can I deny Lord Glorfindel his chance at revenge."

The twins bore identical looks of horror.

"Care to join me Haldir?" invited the Vanyar with a wicked smile.

The March-warden was more than eager to comply.

* * *

Now that they were all gathered in Elrond's study— minus one Elf-Lord as he was busy with the twins— the small group began to converse. Galadriel was the one who wished to speak with Gandalf and the Peredhel, having seen a vision of the future that was disturbing to the three Elven realms.

"What have you seen my lady?" inquired Elrond with a gesture of his hand.

"Mirkwood is in grave danger. The Nazgûl are pushing the darkness from Dol Guldur into the land ruled by Thranduil Elvenking. I sense he no longer has the will to hold back the invading forces."

Gandalf stroked his beard in deep thought. "Thranduil would not easily allow Mirkwood to fall prey to darkness. What would make him lose the will to continue fighting this battle?"

"It is his son," Celeborn spoke up from beside his wife. "Two thousand years ago, the Elvenking lost his eldest son Legolas to the darkness. Since that day Thranduil has begun losing hope. Without their ruler in full health, Mirkwood has begun succumbing to the darkness that is spreading from Dol Guldur."

"Is his son alive?" Gandalf did not like where this is going.

"We do not know. I cannot see into Dol Guldur for the darkness there blocks my vision," admitted Galadriel.

"Then perhaps I will venture into Dol Guldur and search for signs of the lost prince," Gandalf said as he stood up.

Elrond was on his feet as well. "I cannot let you risk your life for this Mithrandir," he sternly objected.

"I will bring Radagast with me."

Radagast the Brown was another of the Maia, an Istari like Gandalf himself. Though unlike the Grey Pilgrim, Radagast preferred not to meddle in the affairs of Elves and Men, choosing instead to tend to nature and its inhabitants.

"That fool spends most of his time talking to animals and tending to plants. He will not lend aid to us Elves at a time like this," Celeborn shook his head in disagreement, knowing full well how Radagast was.

"Do not worry about Radagast, Lord Celeborn. My only concern is why Saruman has not done anything to aid us in this time," Gandalf turned towards the window and stared at the blue sky.

Like Radagast and himself, Saruman was a third member of the Istari, more commonly known as Saruman the White. He was the leader of the White Council, a position Galadriel originally intended for Gandalf. Though on good terms with Gandalf, lately Saruman had been distancing himself from the rest of his Maia brethren. Though Gandalf tried to get in contact, the Grey Wizard found it difficult to do so.

No one had an answer.

"I will take my leave now. I must find Radagast and venture into Dol Guldur," Gandalf bid the others a good-bye and retreated out the door.

"I feel Sauron's return is inevitable," Galadriel said after Gandalf left.

"Until the One Ring is found, he cannot truly be destroyed," Celeborn reminded his wife gently.

Elrond then thought about the battle he had fought in with Isildur three thousand years ago. He had led the Man to the heart of Mount Doom, intending for the ring to be thrown in. Instead of doing so, Isildur fell to temptation and used the ring. The Peredhel regretted not doing the task himself, but what was done is done. Now with the ring missing, he knew Sauron will eventually return and try to conquer Middle-Earth like he did three thousand years ago.

"How much more blood must be spilled? The strength of Elves is waning, and Men remain lost without a leader. Until Arathorn is found, Gondor will not be able to hold back the darkness should anything happen. Rohan too, will not last long were Sauron to return. As for the Dwarves...perhaps Thorin Oakenshield will be able to reclaim his birthright, but what will happen then?" Celeborn asked.

Neither Galadriel nor Elrond had an answer for the Lord of the Woods.


	5. The Burden We Carry

Legolas tried to keep his composure in front of the Necromancer, but the cut on his back was beginning to bother him. Perhaps he could ask the Witch-King to heal the wound later. After a brief moment the group lifted their heads. The assassin kept his eyes trained on the silhouette of the Necromancer, observing quietly as the Witch-King seemed to be conversing with the shadow. During his time in Dol Guldur, the Elf had only seen the Necromancer twice, due to the Witch-King explaining that their master was currently not able to take physical form, nor return to power without the One Ring. Until it was found, the Necromancer will remain nothing more than a mere shadow, giving out orders through his Ringwraiths.

"Understood," the Nazgúl Lord said.

With that done the Necromancer turned towards the Elvenking.

Paralyzed with fear, none of the Mirkwood Elves dared move a muscle.

"Thranduil Elvenking..." the Necromancer rasped in an eerie voice.

The mist suddenly grew thicker around Legolas, no doubt a part of the Witch-King's powers. With a nod of his head, the Ringwraith signaled them to depart. Adjusting his hood again to make sure it was secured around his head, the Elf jumped back onto Hagalith's back, then urged the horse to retreat with the entourage.

Not once did he look back over his shoulder.

* * *

Once back inside the black fortress, Legolas followed the Witch-King to the throne room. The assassin knew he had a new mission, judging by the way the Ringwraith was walking and his previous one was now voided thanks to the visit to Mirkwood. As soon as they were in, the doors behind closed, leaving the two of them alone. Then the Witch-King spun around to face the Elf in such a way, Legolas wondered if he was going to be punished for something that had gone wrong.

"Turn around Legolas."

He obeyed.

Holding a cloaked hand out towards the wound, the Nazgûl Lord called upon his powers to heal the laceration. Legolas let out a sigh as he felt the wound knit itself close, leaving not a scar upon his back.

"I sense something is disturbing you," the Witch-King said, having felt a disturbance in the Elf's aura.

"Thranduil Elvenking asked if I was Legolas...how did he know my name?"

"You were raised here in Dol Guldur. Thranduil Elvenking merely had a stroke of misfortune in naming his lost son the same as you," explained the Ringwraith.

The assassin frowned but chose not to pursue the matter further. There was no reason for him to question the Witch-King. He was trained not to, and taught only to obey orders that were given to him. The last time he questioned an order, the Witch-King had him whipped so badly, it took months for Legolas to fully regain his agility and fighting abilities.

"The Necromancer has asked for you to seek out the One Ring."

Legolas was taken aback.

Ever since Isildur cut off the One Ring from Sauron's finger and claimed it for himself, it has been lost for thousands of years. No one has seen it. Legolas knew the Ring still had to be around, for Sauron's life was tied to the One Ring. Yet during the countless trips he spent outside of Dol Guldur, searching for signs of the lost band, he had not found a single trace of where it might be.

"Does he know where the One Ring is?"

"Find a creature by the name of Gollum. But first you need to befriend a Hobbit called Bilbo Baggins."

He blinked several times. "A Hobbit?"

"Our master Sauron has received word the Dwarves from Erebor will make contact with that Hobbit. If the Dwarves were to reclaim the Lonely Mountain, then my kingdom of Angmar will never be able to rise again. You must prevent them from killing Smaug and taking back what is theirs," the Witch-King rasped.

The Dwarves of Erebor, led by Thorin Oakenshield, was not unknown to the Elf. What he found strange was the fact that they were willing to meet with a Hobbit. The last time he heard news about them, Legolas was sure they were not going to reclaim their lost kingdom that now belonged to Smaug. Why would they stir now? More importantly, what compelled them to do so?

When the Ringwraith did not say anything, Legolas took this chance to depart the room.

* * *

A plethora of emotions were building up within the assassin's mind, threatening to spill over like a broken dam. Therefore instead of returning to his room, Legolas went straight for the shadowed trees, hoping to find comfort amongst their limbs. It was a habit of his. Whenever he was upset or needed comforting, the Elf would spend countless hours sitting with the trees, listening to their advice and falling asleep on their trunks. Pulling himself gracefully up the closest tree, Legolas made himself comfortable and then opened up his mind.

_Daelas, what is bothering you?_  the trees whispered.

_I killed a Elf earlier...I...I do not know how to react..._

The trees around Legolas stirred at this news.

_Was it on purpose?_

Legolas flinched at this, as if the trees had physically slapped him.

_No! I meant to disable, but one jumped in front of the dagger I threw._

Only now did the assassin stare at his hands.

Hands that have been stained with the blood of an innocent Elleth.

The assassin never meant to kill any of his own kind, but the image from earlier was forever imprinted within his memories.

It will haunt him for the rest of his immortal life.

_My hands are stained..._

_You are an assassin, it is inevitable your hands will be stained with blood Daelas_.

Up until now the Elf had never shown any remorse for the victims he killed, be it Man, Dwarf, Goblins and Orcs alike. Yet because of Aeneth's death, he was feeling remorse and regret for the first time.

The tree Legolas was perched on lowered its branches, allowing its leaves to gently caress his face. Leaning against the trunk of the tree, Legolas took deep breaths to calm himself. All around the trees whispered comforting words to the assassin. It did little to ease the guilt within. Something wet began to trickle down his face. A hand went up to touch the droplets, prompting the Elf to widen his eyes in realization.

He was shedding tears.

* * *

The forests of Mirkwood were indeed changing when Gandalf stepped inside. The darkness was heavy in the air, bearing down on the Istari and making it difficult to breathe. Whispering a spell to keep the darkness around at bay, the Grey Wizard pressed forward along the forest floor. Radagast had a small cottage near the eastern woods, so naturally his first destination would be to look there.

However he didn't have to walk for.

A hedgehog came tumbling out of the shrubs, landing right in front of Gandalf with a small squeak. Moments later a disheveled Radagast appeared, twigs and leaves covering his wild hair. Compared to the Grey Wizard, the Brown Wizard's appearance was more disheveled and tattered. Gandalf spotted what looked suspiciously like droppings in his friend's hair as well, but chose not to say anything.

"Sebastian! Don't run off without me!"

Gandalf gave his fellow Istari a smile.

"Hello Radagast."

"Gandalf!" Radagast nearly dropped his staff from shock. "What are you doing here?" he quickly adjusted his lopsided hat.

"I came to find you."

The Brown Wizard eyed Gandalf carefully.

"What is the real reason?" Radagast bent to scoop up the hedgehog in his arms.

"I wish for you to come with me to Dol Guldur in search of Thranduil's lost son," Gandalf said softly.

Radagast went rigid, the color drained from his face.

"Dol Guldur is a place of great evil Gandalf! We cannot just come and go as we please!" Radagast glanced about nervously, like something will jump out of the bushes any second to ambush them.

Gandalf let out a heavy sigh. "Mirkwood cannot hold the darkness back unless Thranduil strengthens the borders. Surely you can feel it as well Radagast, the heaviness that is pressing against us as we speak."

For a while the Maia did not speak, and when he finally did, it was hard to hear his words.

"The woods are dying. The animals are dying. My power alone is not enough to stop this," lamented Radagast, furiously stroking Sebastian as he spoke.

A warm hand reached out to pat the Brown Wizard comfortingly on the shoulder.

"Then we shall help Thranduil Elvenking in his fight for Mirkwood."

* * *

_"Esgal why did you kill me?"_

_Legolas spun around in the dark void. Slowly his eyes were able to make out the familiar silhouette of Aeneth floating before him. Her transparent body allowed Legolas to see the dagger embedded upon her back, with silver trails representing blood trickling down her back._

_"Aeneth...I did not mean to kill you! Or any Elf for that matter," Legolas answered._

_"You swore no harm will come to me Esgal. You betrayed me! Now I want your life!"_

_The ghostly specter of Aeneth morphed into a horrifying version of herself covered in blood. With a terryifying wail, the specter flew right at a stunned Legolas._

* * *

The assassin bolted upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat and panting heavily. He couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, all Legolas could see was the bloodied image of Aeneth demanding revenge.

Rubbing his face wearily the Elf took several deep breaths. Next he folded his legs into a meditative stance, and sealed his eyes. Drawing upon a technique used to clear his mind, Legolas emptied hsi mind in an attempt to relax his body. Even after spending an entire afternoon amongst the trees didn't help the Elf much. The guilt was bearing down on him heavily, like a blanket he could not shake off.

Unable to calm his mind, the assassin swung his legs over the side of the bed. Cladding himself in a dark tunic outfitted to house various weapons, Legolas threw a cloak over his shoulders and slipped out the door.

The halls were dark save for oil lanterns hanging on the walls. Slowly Legolas made his way towards the stables. Whenever he was upset and needed someone to talk to, the assassin would go to one Elf.

Faenor.

A Goblin was standing guard at the stable gates when Legolas arrived.

"Lord Esgal," it greeted.

"I will be back at daybreak," the Elf strode past the Goblin towards his horse.

* * *

A hundred years ago Legolas found Faenor being chased by Spiders during a scouting mission. Unwilling to let a fellow Elf die, Legolas slaughtered the venomous beasts, saving Faenor's life in the process. To repay him for the life debt, Faenor revealed he was a blacksmith and offered to forge all of the assassin's weapons as payment for what he had done. The Elf took up the offer and they became fast friends after that.

In order to protect Faenor the assassin brought him to a secluded valley that only he knew of.

Now he stood in front of the cottage after a quick ride.

"Faenor? Are you in there?" Legolas called.

The door opened and a golden-haired Elf stood at the entrance.

"Legolas!"

Faenor is the only Elf who knew of the assassin's true name.

"I need to talk to you," Legolas stepped inside the cottage.

A corner of the dwelling had been fashioned into a forge, allowing Faenor to craft weapons for a living. The blades were of the finest quality around, combined with its magical properties, Elven weapons were highly sought after. Their blades never rusted, and some were imbued with the ability to glow blue in the presence of Goblins and Orcs, though that skill was said to have been lost after the First Age of Elven blacksmiths.

"Is something on your mind?" Faenor placed a cup of juniper tea in front of Legolas.

"I killed a Elf..."

Faenor's hand stilled.

"How?" he finally asked.

"I meant to disable, but another jumped into the path of my dagger...and..." Legolas buried his face in his hands, unable to go on further.

It took the blacksmith several moments to realize the assassin was crying.

_Crying._

In the hundred years that Faenor knew Legolas, not once has he seen the latter cry like this.

It was quite a shock.

Taking a seat next to the trembling Elf, Faenor rested a hand on his friend's shoulder sympathetically.

"Do not blame yourself Legolas," he said softly.

"I  _killed_ her Faenor, after I swore I would never harm her. She died because of me!"

Legolas' eyes were red when he looked up at his friend. The agony and pain in those sapphire orbs were so great, Faenor could feel his own heart ache despite not having witnessed what the assassin had. Eyes that were full of remorse and regret. The blacksmith could see years and years of unrestrained emotions pouring forth from Legolas like a surging river.

"Was it your intent to kill?"

"I would never kill my own kind!" Legolas said in a horrified tone.

The blacksmith softened his expression. "The fault is not yours Legolas. I know you will never harm our own kind. You said the Elf jumped in the way, was he trying to protect someone?" inquired Faenor.

"She," corrected Legolas hoarsely. "She jumped in the way to protect the Crown Prince of Mirkwood."

"And your intent was not to kill right?"

Not trusting his voice to work properly, the assassin dipped his head in acknowledgment.

"The Elleth willingly sacrificed herself to protect the Prince. You aimed to disable, not kill. What happened was a tragic accident but it is not your fault," Faenor pushed the cup of tea towards his friend.

"Then why does my heart feel so heavy?" Legolas gave his friend a weary look.

"Because it proves you are not emotionless and cold-blooded. It means you care about others. It means Legolas, you have a  _heart_. I am alive thanks to you, because you saved me a hundred years ago from those Spiders. Your unwillingness to let your own kind die proves that you have feelings. The guilt you feel over the death of this Elleth just proves what I say is true," the blacksmith said.

Stiff fingers slowly curled themselves around the rim of the cup. Now that Faenor had spoken his words of wisdom to the assassin, Legolas took some time to digest what his friend had said. The familiar and soothing scent of juniper wafted up his nose, the berries slowly working to unwind the tension that had built up within the Elf's body from morning.

Faenor smiled as Legolas slowly drank the tea.

* * *

" _Ada! Ada_ save us!" Elladan cried, bursting into the study of their father's home.

Startled from the scroll that he had been reading, Elrond flicked his eyes up to find his sons running full speed towards him. However the twins were dressed in rags and sporting magnificent makeup. The Peredhel took one look, then doubled over in laughter at the sight of his sons wearing cosmetics. The funny part to it was whoever did the makeup, did such a terrible job that Elladan and Elrohir looked rather ridiculous. In the thousands of years that he has lived, not once had Elrond laughed like this, to the point where his stomach was actually beginning to hurt.

The twins— horrified that their father was laughing— hid behind a guffawing Elrond when they heard footsteps approaching.

Glorfindel and Haldir— the former bearing a  _very_ pleased expression— entered the study to find the healer laughing like there was no tomorrow. The Elf-Lord shared a brief look with the March-Warden, the two Elves concerned for Elrond's state of mind.

"Lord Elrond?" Glorfindel tentatively called.

Elrond straightened up after a moment and collected himself. "Glorfindel, Haldir, I assume you two played a part in this?" the Peredhel pushed his chair aside to reveal a cowering Elladan and Elrohir.

" _Ada_!" Elrohir ran behind the curtain to cover himself up.

His twin mirrored his movements.

"I must say, the new looks suit your sons immensely," Haldir said with a smirk.

"Yes. I would have to agree with you on that Haldir," Elrond felt his lips tug into a rare smile.

The Elf-Lord pressed a hand against his mouth just as a laugh escaped. He and Haldir spent the whole afternoon torturing the twins, tying them to posts and getting makeup from Arwen to experiment with. As they had never applied any cosmetics prior to this, the two Elves enjoyed themselves greatly in humiliating the twins. The worse part was the fact that maids and guards saw this very clearly, thanks to Glorfindel tying them in the main hall where Elves walked freely to and from.

Oh yes.

It was sweet revenge indeed for Glorfindel and Haldir.

"Lord Glorfindel! Please forgive us! We will never prank you again," Elrohir begged from behind the curtain.

"Yes! We promise not to!" added Elladan.

Glorfindel rubbed his chin in contemplation. "Shall we forgive them Haldir? Or torture them some more?"

"I say they haven't learned enough yet," Haldir grinned wickedly.

The twins looked to their father for saving.

Elrond —as much as he enjoyed seeing his sons humiliated— decided to step in and save his sons, preserving whatever dignity they had left.

"That is enough Glorfindel and Haldir. As Lord of Imladris I must preserve the dignity and pride of my sons. I am sure Elladan and Elrohir have learned their lesson,  _have you not_  my children?" he glared sharply at the twins.

"We have! We learned our lesson!"

"If Lord Elrond says the twins have learned their lesson, then I will graciously accept and not take this further."

With a deep bow to the Peredhel, both Glorfindel and Haldir departed the study. As soon as they were gone, the twins came out from their hiding places to stand beside their father. Elrond simply shook his head in defeat, went back to his desk, and proceeded to pick up reading from the scroll. He was doing this on purpose to distract himself, for the minute he looked at his sons, he will fall into another laughing spell.

"Let us go get cleaned up," Elladan glanced at his tattered robes.

" _Le hannon Ada_ for saving us," Elrohir said as the twins rushed out of the study.

The Peredhel sighed in defeat.

Why could Arda have not blessed him with children who actually obeyed his orders and kept peace around the house? Instead the rambunctious twins will be the death of him one day. How does Arwen tolerate her brothers? Then Elrond remembered his only daughter spent most of her time with her grandparents, meaning she did not have to deal with the antics of her brothers on a daily basis.

How he wished he could do the same.

If only it were so easy.


End file.
